from the director

At what depth of human experience must you share your soul, your mind and your body in order to genuinely see and be seen, know and be known? When are Love and Sex one in the same, creating between them that deep connection we fervently long for known as Intimacy? And what role does Romance play in all this?

When I first read Spark in the summer of 2009 I was charmed by Angela’s illustrations of such musings. I was taken by the play’s poetic darkness, its absurdity, its grimly voyeuristic reality of a future world in which Intimacy has died, its cold, stiff fingers pulling Love and Romance into the grave close behind. In their warm and rosy place was left only Sex and not as a tool for survival – more like a contact sport – an obsessive pastime in a society rendered fragmentary into an almost caste-like system.

I am a romantic. I have always been a romantic and I suppose I always will be. It is the element of Hope, that sole survivor of Pandora’s shattered box, that I seek. It is what makes the story possible to tell, its fearful truths bearable to consider. In an increasingly solitary and digitized world, I continue to observe the ways in which it becomes increasingly more difficult – or at least more cumbersome – to truly connect with others. I hope that as we evolve we lose not the ability, and perhaps most importantly the self-awareness, to nurture connection, to seek and protect those moments of genuine soul sharing – for what makes life worthwhile but having someone to share it with?


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